


An Essential Desire *OLD OLD OLD*

by AShipperWithNoLife



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Awkwardness, Bad Writing, Drama, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:22:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AShipperWithNoLife/pseuds/AShipperWithNoLife
Summary: America has proven himself to be a powerful nation, so of course he'd be able to ignore unnecessary criticism. Then again, unnecessary does not apply to every rude comment. Besides, if the words did hurt, he wouldn't expect anyone to be there for him. As it turns out, America had over estimated himself, and could possibly end up with a submissive role. Despite his strength.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As the title says, this story is OLD. It's probably not going to be that great.

There wasn't too much time before the meeting would finally begin, and England and America happened to be the only two nation in the conference room. Despite the fact that England was regularly an irascible individual, he was actually feeling more irritable than normal. He was full of it, really. America's presence was not helping, but instead, created more unnecessary tension within the Brit. The mounds of hamburgers the younger of the two would continue to eat, the pungent scent that radiated off of the food, and the disgusting fashion in which the oversized meal was devoured. Only one word could describe the sight; abhorrent. England continued to glare at the so called 'idiot', his thoughts smoldering with rancor, How can anyone not cringe at the sight of this disgusting nation?

As America continued to shove hamburgers down his throat, England snapped, "Haven't you eaten enough already, or does your spoiled stomach still 'need' nourishment?"

America gulped down a burger, and answered with a casual hum, "Nope, I'm still hungry."

England couldn't help but scowl at the statement, "Really? You're still hungry?"

"Yep." Was all America replied with, clearly unaware of whatever ever insults England wanted to stab him with. Now infuriated, England scoffed, "Have you ever thought of maybe, ignoring your hunger pangs for once? Come on America, just admit it. You're the fattest nation on the planet, and you're only going to-"

"I don't care, England."

England felt himself tremble with agonizing levels of rage. The tranquility America seemed to possess, regardless of the indignity being used against him, was just exasperating. All England wanted to do now was brutally destroy America's emotional barriers. After a few moments of desperate thought, he knew exactly what to say, "You're my biggest mistake."

In bemusement, America remarked, "Okay then? Why exactly am I your biggest mistake?"

"Come on America, you ruin everyone's economies. Not only that, but you cease to stay out of other nation's personal conflict. Also, have you ever wondered why it's difficult for you to make friends? It's because you're downright annoying! There's hardly anyone in the world who wants to hang around an idiot that shouts 'I'm the hero!' half of the time! Actually, why am I even blaming myself for this? You were born defective!"

Now wroth, America barked, "How is this suddenly my fault!? Seriously, you were suppose to raise me, but instead you abandoned me for most of my childhood! So yeah, I think my 'immaturity' is your doing. Besides, you're the one starting pointless arguments, so you're just being a hypocrite!"

"I'm being a hypocrite? Is that your best argument?" England smirked, "Well, at least I'm not the one with a failing government. Apparently, you never did smarten up after your 'Great Depression'. Hopefully after another tragic depression, you'll be able to think for once. Maybe even learn to stop taking food for granted."

For some reason, America wasn't able to brush off the comment. He knew better than to care about what England thought of him, but the words just felt so, true. Apparently, England wasn't finished, and the fact that he had just found his ex-colony's weak spot gave him a sense of control. Therefore, continued to rant on with his jeers, "I should've just let France raise you. Yes, you were cute as a child, but now, you're just a burden to me. I regret ever having you as a colony."

America felt his throat tighten at the last comment. When England saw tears develop within America's eyes, he returned his gaze to his paperwork, satisfied. For the first time ever, he had managed to demolish the dense steel that seemed to be the substance of America's emotions. Quite an achievement, if he must say so himself. Didn't he feel any remorse? Well, not at first, but when England witnessed the struggle America was going through just to hide his pain from the other nations as they filed in, he began to feel somewhat, peccant. Yet, for the sake of his stubborn pride, he just brushed the feeling off, and continued to browse through his notes.

Meanwhile, America continued to grip the edge of his seat, bowing his head in shame as more nations continued to glance at him. Nations he was once able to face with ease, but instead, he began to feel his own skin prickle whenever he made eye contact with anyone. All he wanted to do was tear his face off from all of the humiliation. To him, it would've been the equivalent of taking off an embarrassing costume.

By the time every nation was settled in their seat, the meeting began. Unfortunately, America was suppose to share his presentation first, and when he made no move to do so, the other nations began to stare at him expectantly. Bowing his head even more so that blond strands of hair veiled his face, America mumbled, "I have nothing to present."

At this, some nations suppressed a sigh of relief. France however, couldn't help but glance at America with consternation. Even though he knew it wasn't necessarily his place to be concerned whenever America was feeling down; he still had to stifle the urge to coddle his love interest, and of course, he was ashamed of this. Completely and utterly contrite by the fact that he was in love with a nation, when the chances of him being loved back were almost non existent. Then again, how could France resist such a youthful beauty. Those lean muscles that were somewhat prominent against his smooth skin, the strands of sandy hair that flowed as they pleased, and the deep azure orbs that could create the soothing sensation of an ocean for anyone who dared to gaze into them. Not to mention, the jocular personality that did nothing more than compliment the physical manifestation. It was all enough to put a goddess of beauty to shame. Sometimes it made France wonder; how is it that most nation hate America?

Time continued to tick by, but instead of recovering from the encounter with England, America only continued to sulk. The sight, it was becoming too much for France to bear. Every time the young nation curled into himself, every time he tried to maintain his breathing to prevent the tears from fleeing made France's already lonesome heart clench some more. Out of all of the people in the world, his precious America did not deserve to suffer alone.

At last, the meeting was concluded. Of course, almost every nation left as soon as they could. Yet, by the time every nation aside from France and America had evacuated the conference room, America had surprisingly showed no signs of budging. France decided that he would have no more of this, so he approached America, and asked, "Mon cheri, what's wrong?"

America turned away from France, "I'm fine."

A sympathetic smile decorated France's expression, as he tilted America's head, so his that dearest had no choice but to make eye contact with him, "Are you sure?"

Although America was somewhat comforted by the action, he could not help but tear up when he thought of lying to France once more. It would've been pointless to hide the woe anyways, for the older of the two could just simply detect it in his eyes. Instead of trying to coerce the answer out of the already fragile nation, France decided to embrace him. While America received the solace, he began to sob. France began to rub soothing circles around America's back. His voice was just above a whisper, "It's okay Amerique. Just take your time."

While he continued to bawl, America rested his cheek against France's shoulder, allowing himself to absorb the comfort it's owner bounteously provided. Of course, France did not enjoy the idea of witnessing his beloved in such distress, but that did not stop him from savoring the opportunity of comforting America. The younger nation was actually leaning on his shoulder instead of just pushing him away. Which of course, made the moment all the more enjoyable. Perhaps France did in fact, have a chance at winning America's heart. After all, he never really did abhor France. The contemporary aspiration filled France's heart, so he could not help but allow his smile to grow.

Eventually, America's sobs became nothing more than a snivel. France allowed his head to rest fondly on one of America's shoulders, and invited with a hushed tone, "I know of a very nice restaurant not too far from here. Would you like to eat there with me? Who knows? Maybe some food will make you feel better."

"No," America whimpered, his eyes glazed over with fresh tears, "I don't want to eat at a restaurant!"

France backed up enough just to give America a shocked expression, but not too far as to let go of his embrace, "Amerique, why not?"

America turned away from France, and bawled, "I'm just so fat, and I don't deserve to eat!"

France furrowed his eyebrows, and demanded, "Who told you this?"

"It doesn't matter, because it's true!"

"No Amerique," France's tone soften, but was still firm, "Who ever told you that is wrong. Do not starve yourself for this individual. Chances are, they don't even care for your well being."

For some reason France couldn't quite comprehend, the words had only caused America to choke on an abrupt and violent sob. What did he do wrong? After all, he was only trying to help America, and everything seemed to be working out just fine until he invited the younger nation to eat out with him. Then, it hit him. France knew that the question would be risky, but he decided to ask it anyways, "Amerique, was this someone you cared about?"

At first, America seemed reluctant to answer, but it didn't take too long before he began to vent, "England was the one who called me fat, and told me that the Great Depression wasn't enough to put me in my place! He also told me that I'm a burden to him, since I was once his colony! Maybe if I didn't turn out to be such a failure, he would still love me!"

France didn't even bother hiding his shock at this news, but still tried to be reassuring, "I-I'm sure Angleterre didn't mean any of that. Even if it doesn't seem that way. I'll have a talk with him later, but do try to take your mind off of those harsh words."

Now comforted, America allowed himself to rest his head on France's shoulder, and said with a sniff, "Thank you."

"Pas de problème," France allowed himself to smile once more. There was a moment of silence before France finally decided to repeat his earlier request, "Would you like to come with me to that restaurant now?"

For a moment, France thought he could detect a nervous glint within America's cerulean eyes, but ignored it when he received his response, "Of course."

France finally freed America of his embrace, and chirped, "Let's go then! It isn't that far. We could probably walk there in about ten minutes."

America followed France as they made their way towards the restaurant he seemed ever so eager to eat at. By the time they reached their destination, America couldn't help, but notice that the restaurant was a French one. Of course, he figured, he'd choose a French restaurant over any other. Even in the middle of New York. By the time they were both settled at a table, and were freed of the waitress's presence, France inquired, "Aside from what happened today, has there been anything going on with you lately?"

"Not really," America answered, and then added, "I just still don't understand why you want to eat with me. We just don't really hang out that often."

"Exactly," France began to explain, "We do not spend enough time together. I just wanted to form a stronger bond with you is all. There would be nothing wrong with that, non?"

"Yeah but," America started nervously, pausing for a moment to find the right words, "I don't think that would be necessary. Wouldn't it be more appropriate for you to hang out with Canada, or someone you actually know well."

"This is relevant," France tried to defend, "I mean, there have been some rather important times we have spent together in the old days. After all, I did help you gain your independence during the revolutionary-"

France immediately stopped when he noticed the pain that began to flood in the depths of America's eyes. After giving the younger nation an apologetic glance, his eyes instantly grew a sudden interest for the ground under the table. Mon deur, he thought as his confidence began to diminish, how could I be so stupid? To bring up such a sensitive topic. Out in public too! Not only did I hurt Amerique, but I could've given away our identities. The two did not utter a word until they waitress returned with two glasses full of frigid water. By the time she had her writing pad ready, she asked, "Are you guys ready to order?"

France stared expectantly at America. For a moment, America stayed silent before finally saying, "I'm not that hungry."

With a sigh, France said to the waitress, "I guess we'll just have some crescent rolls."

When the waitress left once more, France rested a comforting hand on America's shoulder, "I'm so sorry Amerique. I didn't mean to reopen old wounds."

"It's fine," America insisted, "It wasn't your fault."

It didn't take too long for the crescent rolls to arrive, and as soon as they were set on the table, France picked one up, and began to eat it hungrily. Once he was finished with the first crescent roll, he looked over at America, and noticed that the younger nation showed no interest in the food. France sighed at this, "Amerique, could you at least try to eat one?"

America grabbed one of the crescent rolls, and began to nibble on it. About half way through the pastry, the nibbling was replaced with that of gulps a python could demonstrate. By the time the basket was empty, France hardly even had a chance to eat a second crescent roll. With an affectionate laugh, he asked America, "Are you sure you weren't hungry?"

America answered, "Well, I'm not hungry anymore."

"Figures," France replied before adding, "so I guess it's time for me to pay the bill?"

"Wait," America inquired, "What do you mean by pay the bill? This isn't a date."

"I am aware of that," France started innocently, then asked, "but is there something wrong with buying a meal for mon ami?"

"No, but you hardly ate any of it, so I should pay."

"You're so polite Amerique, but can't I just do you a favor once and awhile?"

America sighed in defeat, "Fine, you can pay for the meal."

Once that conflict was resolved, France payed for the meal, and left the restaurant with America. As they continued to walk down the street, France had come up with yet another request, "Would you like to spend the night at my hotel room? I'd really appreciate your company."

America examined France's pleading expression, becoming even more suspicious of the older nation's sudden obsession for his presence. As strange as the Frenchman was acting, America was actually beginning to consider the offer. He was sick of spending most of his time at home, and the thought of being alone at his house after the conflict he had faced during the meeting was just dreary. After a few moments of thought, America finally answered, "Sure."

Fortunately, the hotel wasn't far from the restaurant, so America and France were able to walk the short distance in the span of a few minutes. However, in the short period of time, England's harsh words continued to echo in America's head, Hopefully after another tragic depression, you'll be able to think for once. Maybe even learn to stop taking food for granted. I regret ever having you as a colony. By the time the two nations arrived in the hotel room, America sat down on one of the beds, and stared at a wall as he tried to prevent tears from coming. France seemed to be oblivious to the gloomy mood as he asked, "Is there anything you would like to watch on la télé?"

America muttered his reply, "Not really."

France couldn't help but frown when he heard America's voice crack. Sitting down next to the younger nation, he inquired, "Are you thinking about what Angleterre told you again?"

"I should be over it by now," America explained, "but it still hurts."

"As I've said before," France advised, "It's unlikely that Angleterre thinks such things of you. He was probably just having a rough morning, and had no idea what he was saying."

"It looked like he meant it."

When a sly tear escaped from America's eyes, France embraced him, and assured, "Even if he did mean any of those words, just remember that there is still someone in this world who thinks differently of you."

America buried his face into France's shirt in an attempt to stifle his sobs. As the older nation continued to stroke the hair on the back of his head, America thought angrily to himself, What came over me? How can I be this comfortable with a nation I hardly talk to? France on the other hand continued to patiently comfort the other. At that moment, he didn't care if America was even crying over something as ridiculous as a gold fish dying. All that mattered to him was that the younger nation was once again, seeking his comfort. Receiving such trust in the first place was a rare commodity, and France was desperate to win over America's heart.

By the time the sobbing finally died down, America was leaning against France with his eyes half open. France wiped the remaining tears from America's face, and stated, "I think you should get some rest now."

America mumbled his protest, "But it's still noon."

France glanced at the clock to discover that it was four twenty-eight, then decided to correct America, "It's almost four thirty in the evening."

"That's still too early."

France sighed, and began to gently tuck America into the bed. Much to his surprise, the younger nation didn't protest. Either he was too tired to continue the argument, or mesmerized by the comfort France had provided. Since America was half asleep anyways, France decided that it would be safe to go under the covers and snuggle with him. When France noticed that America was still forcing himself to stay awake, he explained with a persuasive tone, "You had a rough day, Amerique, and you're finished with all of your work. Just sleep now."

When America finally drifted into a deep sleep, France continued to admire the young nation's peaceful features. By the time he was able to find his voice, after being amazed by such a beautiful youth, he whispered to the sleeping America, "Perhaps one day you will love me back, mon mignon."


	2. Chapter 2

France awoke the next morning, and glanced out the window to find that it was still dark outside. Furrowing his eyebrows, he decided to read the clock, and found that it was almost five am. Then he gazed over at America, only to see that he was still asleep. He's been asleep for twelve hours now, France thought, he must have been extremely exhausted from all of that crying. France continued to watch the young nation sleep, and couldn't help but titter whenever America mumbled something about being a hero. To him, it was the equivalent of watching a puppy have a dream.

Suddenly, America began to inch closer to France, and hugged him while mumbling in his sleepy voice, "Mmm….it's so comfy."

France couldn't help but blush at the action. In response, he decided to stroke America's hair and cheek as if he was his precious pet. The touch caused America to snuggle even closer to France. That was, until he finally opened his eyes, and studied the situation he was currently in. After a few moments of silence, America gave the older nation a flummoxed gaze, and inquired, "France, what are you doing?"

"Nothing cheri," France replied as he quickly retreated his hand, and then added with an innocent hum, "Well, it's a good thing you're finally awake. You've been out for nearly twelve hours."

For a moment, America gave France a qualm glare, but eventually decided to shrug the uneasy feeling off when he figured that France was just being his overly affectionate self. Once that internal compromise was over, America gripped his stomach when he realized how hungry he was, and asked, "Do you think we could eat some breakfast now?"

"Where do you want to eat? I doubt there are any restaurants open right now."

"It doesn't have to be at a restaurant," America began his explanation. However, he paused for a moment to start up yet another debate with himself, I'm sick of spending time at my house, but I suppose if France is around to keep me company, it'll feel a bit different. On a second thought, he might be fun to hang around for a while. He continued on with his clarification, "We could eat breakfast at my house. Besides, I need to change into some new close, and I'd rather take a shower at home than at a hotel."

"Wait," France stated, and then questioned out of his disbelief, "You're letting me stay at your house?"

"Why not?" America asked, "I owe you anyways, since you helped me out and everything."

After that was said, France began to pack up his belongings while America did his best to look presentable with the lack of hygiene enhancers he had available at the moment. With some drops of water, his hair was almost manageable, despite the cowlick that refused to stay down. Other than that, he didn't seem to have a pungent odor to him, and his teeth and skin; well that was as flawless as always. Once the two nations were finished preparing to leave, France checked out of the hotel room, and they both left for America's house in a cab.

As soon as they arrived at the said house, America went to his bedroom to gather up some new clothes, and began to take his shower. Meanwhile, France decided that while America was in the shower, it would be the perfect time to have that talk with England. A few moments after dialing England's number, he was greeted with a vexatious sigh, "What do you want, stupid frog?"

"Angleterre," France began, "I think you went a little far with your insults towards Amerique."

A pang of guilt struck at England's gut, but he decided to veil it with a snappy response, "Who ever said I insulted America!? Also, since when did you actually start caring for his well being!?"

France began to feel his defensive tendencies act up when he heard the apathy being used against America, and snapped, "Don't you even care about the pain you put Amerique through!? I was watching him during the meeting, and the entire time he was holding back tears! Don't even deny the fact that you insulted him, he told me everything you said to him! He even called himself a failure, and was reluctant to eat when I offered him food! Amerique doesn't usually act like this, so I hope you feel terrible for what you have done!"

A queasy feeling began to settle in England's stomach, and this time when he replied, he did not even bother to hide his remorse, "I'm terribly sorry France. Honestly, I didn't mean any of those insults. Is America going to be okay?"

"I think he's fine now," France sighed, allowing himself to relax, "but you should still apologize to him, instead of to me."

When America walked into the living room, France told England before handing the young nation his phone, "Well, here he is."

"Hello?" America asked, and felt his heart drop when he heard England's voice on the other end, "Hello America."

"England?" America questioned, "Why would you want to talk to me?"

"I just wanted to apologize for hurting you yesterday. Are you going to be okay?"

"Don't worry about it," America answered with a smile, "I'm kind of over it now, but it was nice of you to apologize anyways."

"Well, I should get going now, I have to get ready for my flight."

"Okay, bye." Was the last thing America said before hanging up. After returning the phone to France, he immediately set off towards the kitchen, and began to search for something to eat for breakfast. As France watched America search through his cabinets in order to decide on what to eat, he offered, "I could cook you something for breakfast, if you'd like."

"No thanks," America replied, grabbing a box of cookie dough pop tarts, "I already have that taken care of."

Then America grabbed a package of pop tarts from the box, and held it out to France while asking, "Want some?"

France observed the picture of the pastries on the box. It did not look appetizing to him at all, and the fact that the words 'chocolate chip cookie dough' were printed above the poptarts didn't help. The concept made absolutely no sense to France. Why would anyone eat a pastry stuffed with cookie dough for breakfast? He thought, That's more of a dessert than a breakfast. As disgusting as the food seemed to be to France, he also didn't want to reject the poptarts, in the fear that it might offend, or hurt his American love interest. Of course, he was aware that America was not nearly as fragile as he was absentmindedly portraying him to be, but he figured that demonstrating some decent manners would be necessary, in case it somehow actually did. Using the most polite tone he could muster, France grabbed a package of the pop tarts, and replied, "Merci. I've never had one of these before, but they look very… tempting."

America's already cheery expression seemed to brighten a bit at this. Then he decided to offer, "I have some other flavors as well, if you want to try them out."

"No thanks," France began, successfully managing to restrain a grimace, "I think this will be plenty."

When France studied his first bite of the pastry with his tongue, he tried his best to stifle a gag at the cloying taste. The fact that the pop tart was also extremely dehydrating only made matters worse. By the time France was halfway done with eating the first pop tart, he set it down on the kitchen counter, and stated, "I don't think I can eat anymore of this."

America noticed that France seemed to be nauseated, and decided to inform, "You know, you didn't have to eat an entire half of a pop tart if you don't like them."

"They weren't to bad," France explained, then decided to somewhat express his opinion, "they're just a little too sweet."

"By the way," America began, deciding to change the topic as a sudden liveliness struck him, "There's this one very terrifying horror movie I'm planning on watching tonight. Wanna watch it with me?"

Upon hearing the request, France began to ponder, I don't think this would be a good idea after what the other nations have told me, but surely he doesn't react as badly as the rumors portray him to? Well, his horror movies are terrible, so I doubt it. Turning to face America once more, he answered, "Okay."

America clung to France's shirt as if his life depended on it; his entire form trembling as he tried to stifle his whimpers. France had an arm wrapped around America, in an attempt to comfort the young nation. Although he was somewhat disturbed by the rather gory scenes, France held no interest in the movie playing before him. He was almost half tempted to turn off the television, especially since America seemed to be on the verge of panicking, but since his love interest had been so intent on finishing the movie, France decided that it would be best to wait patiently throughout the rest of the film.

Suddenly, a blood curdling screech rang throughout the room; causing France to jump, and America to shriek, and bury his head into the older nation's shoulder. Once France recovered from the jump scare, he returned to attention America when he heard the younger of the two's muffled demand, "Turn it off! turn it off! TURN IT OFF!"

France grabbed the remote, and turned the television off. For a moment, the room was silent before America began to sob. While gently rubbing America's back, France explained with a sigh, "Everything's going to be okay Amerique. It was just a movie."

"I-I know," America's whimper was almost mute, "b-but it looked so real."

The two nations continued to sit on the couch in (almost) complete silence, and when America's sobs showed no signs of dying down, France sighed, and held America protectively as he advised, "Just try to take your mind off of it. Usually talking to someone helps."

By the time America finally regained some of his composure, he lifted his head in order to make eye contact with France, and asked, "W-wait, you don't think I'm being a complete wimp right now?"

"Of course not."

Confusion was present in America's eyes as he explained, "But usually everyone thinks I'm full of it when I get scared from a horror movie."

"Well, you shouldn't feel ashamed of it," France assured, "Because not everyone thinks that way."

The frown on America's face was quickly replaced by a smile as he stated, "You're the only person I know who actually cares when I get scared from a horror movie."

France quirked an eyebrow as he asked, "Doesn't Matthieu care about how you feel?"

"I guess he would, if he actually saw me in a scared state," America began, "but I usually try to hide my feelings from him, since I don't want to be a burden. The same applies to everyone else."

As France continued to gaze into America's azure orbs, he couldn't help but notice a sudden emptiness to them. Has he been feeling lonely? France mentally asked himself before saying, "If you ever feel upset, please talk to me. It's not healthy to keep negative emotions bottled up."

"Thanks France," America replied in a somewhat timid tone, "You're too kind."

France couldn't help but allow a shy smile of his own to decorate his features at the response. He's kind of cute when he acts shy. France thought, as he felt himself somewhat melt on the inside. However, the fluttery feeling was replaced with that of disappointment when America decided to leave his embrace, and say, "I think I'll be going to bed now."

"Okay then, bonne nuit."

France watched as America walked out of the room, but when the younger nation suddenly stopped moving when he gazed down the hallway, France decided to approach him and ask, "What's wrong? Are you still scared?"

"A little," America admitted and then asked, "W-would it be too much trouble for you to come to the bedroom with me?"

"Of course not." France answered, and with that said, the two set off towards the bedroom. Once in the bedroom, America quickly burrowed himself under the covers of his bed, as if something lurking in the silhouettes of the room would attack him if he wasn't nimble. When America spoke, after a while of hiding under the covers, France couldn't help but be surprised by how childish his words sounded, "F-France? You wouldn't mind sleeping with me would you? N-not in the dirty way of course."

At that, France crawled under the covers next to America. By the time France was lying comfortably on the bed, America allowed his head to pop out from under the the blankets, and with an embarrassed blush, he added, "S-sorry if this feels a little awkward."

France shrugged, "I really don't mind."

Oh right, of course he wouldn't, America thought, as he snuggled closer to his ally. As France returned the affection, he began to muse, I swear, Amerique becomes more adorable by the second. Unfortunately, and obviously, he's not in love with me just yet, but I think that will change one day if I keep acting friendly towards him. Right once France's chain of thought was concluded, America stated, "You're right, we don't spend enough time together."


	3. Chapter 3

America had only been hanging out with France for a few days before the older nation had to return to his own country. Of course, America wanted to spend more time with France, and couldn't help but abhor the fact that his friend's boss gave him a bunch of work out of the blue. He knew that France would much rather be spending time with him, instead of doing a bunch of work. It was almost as if the world was trying to mock his lonely soul.

Sure, America had a few phone calls with France, but the conversations were always brief. After the phone calls, America had decided, "He must be too busy to talk to me. Maybe at the next meeting we'll be able to have a decent conversation."

America continued to ponder the situation before him, but then, a sudden emptiness began to expand when he concluded, "What if he actually doesn't want to hang out with me anymore?"

Curling up on the couch, America continued to analyze the memories he had from France's visit, and couldn't help but feel ashamed when he recalled the night that he began to cling onto France because he was frightened by the horror movie. As the recollection continued to repeat itself, America cringed as prickles of shame stabbed at his stomach. While his throat began to tighten, America thought, I think France was lying to me when he told me that he didn't think I was a wimp. How could I not see it before? It was obvious that he was annoyed by how ridiculous I was acting.

By the time America was able to find his voice, he turned his gaze towards the ground, and mumbled, "I don't care if England took back what he said, he was still right when he told me that I'm far too annoying to have any friends."

Before any tears could actually escape from his eyes, America slapped his hand against his forehead in order to express his disappointment, and muttered, "What in the world just came over me? Why do I even care about what England said when it's obvious that he didn't mean it? Seriously, I'm so much better than this."

Sure, America was having no problem overcoming whatever angsty thoughts that decided to attack him out of the blue, but none the less, he was bored out his mind when he was all alone. There was no doubt about it, he was in desperate need for the company of another nation. Although, the situation wasn't all that terrible, because by time the next world meeting was held (which coincidentally ended up being at his place again), America was actually somewhat thrilled for once. After all, he would be able to see France again.

Some nations did find it somewhat unusual when they saw that America happened to be the first one to arrive to the meeting, but he didn't care when the other nations would cringe at his sudden 'exaggerated' enthusiasm for the meeting. He was just intent on being able to talk to France after such a while of not seeing him. When France finally did enter the meeting room, America immediately approached him, and greeted, "Hello France, how have you been?"

"Well, I'm definitely feeling relieved, now that all of that work is done." France answered, and then inquired, "How have you been, and also, how come you haven't been calling me that often?"

America averted his eyes away from France, finding a sudden interest in the ground as a note of compunction was undoubtedly present in his response, "Sorry about that, I wasn't trying to be rude. I just thought that you were busy, and wouldn't want me to interrupt you."

"Oh, well that's fine," France nodded in understanding before deciding to change that topic, "By the way, I'll be free of any work for an entire month. Just thought I'd let you know."

"Oh, really?" America questioned, returning his gaze back to France as a spark of excitement lurched in the pits of his stomach, "Does this mean you'll hang out with me some more?"

"Of course," France couldn't help, but smile at the invite, "I'd love to."

While America and France continued to wait for the meeting to begin, they decided to talk about how tedious the past few weeks had been. It wasn't all for the sake of complaining, as some of the nations might have assumed, but they were just enjoying the relief that venting gave them. Especially since they knew that the other was listening. By the time a sudden silence washed over the room as a signal for the beginning of the meeting (also, since no one showed any signs of budging from their seats), America decided to gather up some of his notes, and walk over to the front of the room in order to grab everyone's attention. However, before he was even able to start his presentation, England decided to yell out, "Hey, no one ever said that you could present first, you bloody idiot!"

America shrugged, "No one else seemed ready to present, so I just thought it'd be relevant if I went first."

Other nations, along with England, began to object the explanation. Of course, this was typical for the American. He could just brush it off as soon as the protests (that were now turning into that of harsh insults) died down, and begin his presentation. Yet even though America didn't mind most of the insults, he could help but visibly flinch when he heard one of the nations yell out, "Why don't you just leave this meeting!? It's obvious that no one wants you here! All you ever do is waste everyone's time!"

More and more insults were mercilessly hurled at America, as if the troubled nation wasn't being overwhelmed by perturbation. Sure, it wasn't the first time America was verbally attacked by a group of nations in the middle of a meeting, but France couldn't help but feel himself begin to tremble. It was as if the rush of adrenaline was too much for his body to handle. By the time the edge of his vision became blurry, something inside of France snapped, causing him to yell out, "ENOUGH!"

Every nation in the room turned their gaze towards France at the sudden outburst; stunned to say the least. After giving a few nations an intimidating glare, France continued in a much more quiet voice, but no doubt, the tone was still exceedingly venomous, "Just let Amerique share his presentation, okay?"

After a few more moments of awkward silence, America decided to start his presentation, despite the fact that most of the nations in the room were still staring at a now embarrassed France. As France attempted to ignore the overwhelming gazes of the other nations, he began to ponder, I know that I care for Amerique. A lot. But I still can't believe I just did that. Has my béguin really become something more? France casted a quick glance at America, before concluding his thoughts, Well, isn't this just great? Now I'm going to be in so much pain if he ends up rejecting me.

Even though the meeting only lasted for about an hour (since most of the members of the meeting didn't have much to share), to France, the meeting could've lasted for an entire year, and he still wouldn't have been able to distinguish the difference. Yet, the apprehension that continued to eat at France while he slowly put away the blank paper that was suppose to be used for notes was replaced with that of euphoria when he heard the excited voice of America ask, "Hey France, what do you want to do now?"

Unfortunately, the conversation that had only just begun was immediately interrupted when a certain British accent decided to say, "Excuse me, but I would like to have a word with France for a moment."

After giving him a glance of confusion, France followed England out into the hallway, where no one else was present. After studying France for a moment with a suspicious glare, England questioned, "What's gotten into you lately?"

Dumbstruck by the question, France decided to ask, "What do you mean by that?"

With a sigh, England decided to elaborate, "You haven't been acting annoying or flirty lately, not that that's a bad thing. But what the bloody hell was the sudden outburst for?"

"I was only trying to defend Amerique," France explained, feeling a blush creep onto his face, "everyone would not stop tearing him apart. It was hurting him. I had to do something."

"Still, don't you realize how- wait a minute!"

England couldn't help but scowl when he put two and two together about the situation. After an intimidating silence completed it's job at enhancing the rising, one-sided tensions in the air between the two nation, England accused, "You pervert! You're starting to have feelings for America, aren't you!?"

"No I don't!" France denied, shame beginning to prickle at his skin when he realized how childish his response must have sounded. Yet, kept his composure, and added in a much more mature fashion, "I'm just trying to be a very bien ami to him."

"I don't buy it," England replied, and added with a threatening tone, "Now, if I find out that you've been touching him without his consent, I'll be sure to find a way to kill a nation!"

France watched as England returned to the meeting room, hurt lurking in the depths of his eyes. Of course he was aware of the fact that England didn't exactly trust him, but indirectly being labeled depraved… was that really how England saw him? Did he really just see him as nothing more than a perverted, vile creature? Suddenly, France clenched his hands into tight fists as he muttered, "You know what, I don't care what that black sheep says anymore! If I end up kissing Amerique right in front of him one day, he can deal with it!"

Meanwhile, back in the meeting room, England was walking up to America, who was currently in the process of putting his notes away. By the time he was only about a few feet away from the American, England told him in a quiet voice, "America, I need to tell you something."

Rolling his eyes, America turned to face England and grumbled, "What do you want now?"

England lowered his voice to a whisper, so that no other nation in the room aside from America would be able to hear him, "I think France has strong feelings for you."

America whispered back, "Who doesn't France love?"

"No America," England tried to elaborate, "I think you've become France's love interest. He doesn't seem to be interested in anyone aside from you lately."

"So?"

"Alfred!" England hissed, losing his patience with the young nation, "Doesn't this disturb you at all? Who knows what sick fantasies he's been having about you? I really think you should stop spending so much time with him."

"And I think you're full of it," America retorted, "France knows that we're in a platonic relationship, and I doubt he'd try to sexually assault me. Besides, if he did, I can defend myself."

"America, stop acting like I don't know what I'm talking about," England snapped, "I'm just trying to help you!"

"It'd help if you'd stop acting like you care about me when clearly," America paused for a moment, a flash of hurt making America's glare all the more piercing, "You don't."

England's expression softened as he asked, "What makes you think that I don't care about you?"

"It's so obvious," America stated, "You're trying to stop me from hanging out with one of the only nations that treats me with any respect nowadays. Not only that, but you join in with everyone else when they start ganging up on me."

America paused to turn his gaze away from England, and continued, "Usually I don't care about what others think, but this is just getting ridiculous. Do you even realize what you say to me half of the time?"

"Alfred, you know I don't mean it. Look, I'm really-"

"Just go," America retorted, his voice frighteningly serene, "I don't want to hear it."

When England finally decided to walk away, after standing in silence for a few moments, America returned packing up his notes. This time, instead of expressing much optimism towards the action, he just couldn't help but feel more dejected as time passed. I just don't get it, America began to think as a storm of melancholy continued to deluge his mood, England's just not making any sense lately. He keeps on claiming to care about my well being, but then he'll start treating me like I committed some outrageous crime.

America flinched when he felt a pair of arms pull him into a gentle embrace from behind. After recovering from the shock, he decided to look around for a moment to find that he (aside from whoever was holding him) was alone in the meeting room. Which was none the less, quite alleviating. After all, America was (usually, just usually) the type who easily became embarrassed from receiving affection. Especially in public. America turned around to find that it was France who was hugging him, and asked with a nervous tremor, "France, how come you're hugging like this?"

"Just trying to make sure you're okay cheri," France answered with a smile, as if the whole situation wasn't awkward, "Please, don't be so nerveux."

"I'm fine," America assured, all while forcing his tense muscles to relax. Then he added, "England just ticked me off, that's all."

"I honestly can't blame you for being a little ticked off."

There was a moment of silence before America finally decided to ask, "is it true that you're in love with me?"

"Well of course not," France tried his best to look convincing, "we're just good friends. Don't listen to what Angleterre says, he's just being paranoid."

Wait, France mentally winced, I shouldn't have said that! Who knows? Amerique could have feelings for me, and I might have just broke his heart. Although, that's not very likely. He couldn't help but be relieved when he saw the casual expression on America's face as he stated, "Oh, well that's good. Even though it wouldn't really matter. I just think it would be a bit awkward if we were hanging out together while you had a crush on me."

France nodded his head in (false) agreement, as a troubling thought came to mind, Winning Amerique's heart is a lot harder than I thought it'd be, and I already knew it was going to be difficult.

There was yet another pause in the conversation before America finally said, "By the way, thanks for standing up for me like that when everyone else started picking on me."

France's smile widened as he replied, "It was nothing, really."

"Still, I really appreciate it."

While France continued to gaze into America's deep azure eyes, he inwardly asked, How can anyone hurt this beautiful creature, and not feel ashamed afterwards? He just looks so innocent all of the time, as if he wouldn't even understand why anyone would try to hurt him. France continued to examine America's features, He's kind of like a puppy.


End file.
